


Destiny

by WritingMonkey



Series: The Trappings of Destiny - Modern AU [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Booker being a cock-block, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, Jealousy, Joe being poetic, M/M, Nicky being equally poetic, Post-Coital Cuddling, Religion, Spring Break, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, between Joe and Booker, but they're like 25, everyone's queer because straight is boring, mildly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingMonkey/pseuds/WritingMonkey
Summary: Joe loves spring break with his friends. It's really only on vacation that he can relax and be himself, catch up with his friends, hook up with anyone he feels attracted to, and not worry for a while.And here comes the perfect guy to start the week off right. Handsome and sexy, and all sorts of mysterious too.They meet, they fuck, but can that be enough for Joe? Or Nicky? Destiny holds sway even over mere mortals.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Trappings of Destiny - Modern AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871017
Comments: 17
Kudos: 236





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Like pretty much everybody, I'm obsessed with this movie and this ship. Had this idea and had to write it down and share it with you guys. Hope you like it! Would love some kudos or a comment if you're so inclined, they really encourage the beast that is creativity.  
> Thanks, WritingMonkey :D

Joe loves spring break in Florida. The heat, the sun, the beaches, the lack of clothing, and inhibitions. It’s somewhere he could forget about his parents, his career, society itself, and just breathe.

And he really needs it this year. As his mother keeps reminding him, he isn’t getting any younger, and now is the time to settle down with a nice Muslim girl and raise some children. Because he wouldn’t have the energy for kids forever, apparently. And Joe isn’t necessarily opposed to settling down with someone special. He could see himself being very happy with a wife and kids, giving his parents everything they want from him. But if he was going to settle down with anyone, it wasn’t going to be the girls his mother or aunties introduce him too. Joe wants passion, excitement, brilliance, and most of them were five years his junior and had never left their parents’ house.

But for a whole week, he can forget about his mother’s loving interference and party and drink, swim in the ocean and hook up with girls and boys and every gender in between.

“What about her?” asks Andy, nodding her head towards the bar, her eyes locked on a leggy blond, the epitome of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, with the long, wavy hair and perfect body.

The two friends are currently in heaven, sitting on the side of the hotel pool, dangling their feet in as they watch and appreciate the attractive people around them. Andy in her strappy black bikini while Joe lounges in his white linen short shorts and button-down.

“Ehh…” he hedges. “She’s not really my type.”

Andy rolls her eyes. “No, for me, stupid.”

Joe looks again. Swimsuit Edition is currently flirting pretty heavily with her male equivalent, a bronzed and perfectly muscled frat bro standing next to her at the bar. “Looks pretty straight to me.”

Andy huffs. “Uh-huh, sure. She’s gay, a hundred percent. How much you wanna bet?” She smiles darkly at him, her eyes glinting from behind her sunglasses.

And that’s one of the many reasons Joe loves going on vacations with Andy. Besides her endless lists of contacts who get them discounts on everything from hotel rooms to drugs, she has an uncanny ability to read people. She knew within a few minutes of meeting Joe that he's pansexual but prefers men, that he has overbearing parents, two older sisters and one younger brother, that he hates his job in his father’s company, and wants to be an artist instead. He tried to get her to explain it to him once, but she had just shrugged and said it wasn’t special, people just don't notice things. He was convinced she was the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes in the body of a queer modern ballet dancer. If Sherlock Holmes had actually existed, that is.

“I learned a long time ago to never bet against the house, Andy, so I’m going to have to pass,” he answers. “Maybe against Booker if it’s not a drinking game, but against you? Seducing someone?” he snorts. “I’d be penniless before the week was over.”

She smirks, silently accepting the praise and the censure, and leaning back on her palms leisurely as both their eyes keep roaming. Joe spots a few attractive girls lounging on the opposite side of the pool under beach umbrellas, their insanely long and dark silky hair drawing his attention momentarily, but he keeps scanning.

And through the entrance to the pool deck, Joe sees him. Tall and handsome, olive-complexion with an insanely ordinary haircut despite his devastatingly beautiful handsome face with the palest blue eyes and a prominent nose. His body is lean, but he looks fit too. He elbows Andy to draw her attention, loath to stop looking at him.

“What about him?” He hears her hum lightly, considering.

“Looks Catholic to me. And pretty devout too.”

“What?” he starts, looking at her in shock. That isn’t one he hears her use very often. He looks back at the guy, trying to see what made her say that. A prominent cross necklace? A bag with _I Love Jesus_ printed across it? The handsome man is wearing an entirely black outfit, a black button-down done all the way up and dress pants, which to Joe only indicates that he might be a little uptight, but how does that translate to Catholic immediately?

The man steps out onto the deck, his eyes furrowed and roaming, and his mouth agape slightly as he takes in the scene. And then he looks right at Joe with those intensely blue eyes of his and Joe swears he can feel a bolt run through his body like Cupid shot him with an arrow the second their eyes met. The man looks back at him, his eyes widening and his mouth gasping slightly before he turns around and practically runs back into the hotel.

“Well, Catholic aside, Andy, you think I’ve got a shot?” he asks, longing to chase after him, his heart beating fast, his palms sweating already.

She places her hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. “Based on that reaction, you’re already halfway there, my friend. Go get him, grasshopper.”

He smiles brilliantly, kissing her cheek before standing from the side of the pool and walking off to the entrance back into the building.

“Oh, and Booker said he’d be in later, so you might want to go to his room,” she calls out before he gets too far. As usual, he and Booker are sharing a room. He snorts, nerves and laughter falling off him in waves.

“Knowing Booker that means he’ll be here tomorrow,” he shoots back, the two of them exchanging knowing looks and a smile before Joe turns and jogs into the cool air of the hotel.

Inside, after letting his eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the indoors, he sweeps his gaze from right to left, trying to catch a glimpse of where his beautiful mystery man could have gone. To the left is the lobby and to the right, the restaurant and indoor bar. After a moment of intense deliberation, he decides to go to the right first. At this hour, before the restaurant has opened for dinner and with most of the spring breakers at the outdoor bar, it’ll be easy to clear the room.

He walks into the bar room, the deep mahogany wood and the leather armchairs spanking of old money. A few older men in business suits lounge at a table, cigars in hand, twinky boys sitting beside them looking bored. A couple sits at a couch, hands roaming and eyes heated. And then, Joe spots him.

His mystery man is sitting at the nearly empty bar, talking rapidly to the young bartender who looks like this is her first day and she’s also been thrust in front of a moving car. The mystery man pauses for a moment in his emphatic routine to pull out an honest to god guidebook, clearly trying to explain something with it that’s he’s having a hard time doing on his own. Joe smiles, his heart starts hammering in his chest, almost like it’s trying to escape, and he walks casually over to the bar top.

He sits down to the right of the handsome man as he mutters quietly under his breath while flipping through the pages of the guidebook rapidly. The bartender seems to be just barely old enough to even drink alcohol looks pleadingly over at him. But the mystery man finds what he was looking for in his book and flips it around to show her.

“See, this one!” he exclaims in Italian, surprising Joe. Italian is not what he had expected, but in hindsight, the olive complexion should have tipped him off.

The young girl leans down a little to look at the picture he’s pointing at, but she doesn’t look any less confused having been presented with a picture of the drink this man supposedly wants. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t…I can’t tell what drink this is based on the picture. I mean, it could be any number of cocktails, so maybe you can tell me what kind of drinks you like?”

The blank look on the man’s face tells Joe he caught little to none of what she said. Maybe he doesn’t speak English. Sexy.

“She can’t understand what the drink is based on a picture, handsome. What kind of drinks you like?” he calls over to him in Italian. Both of their gazes snap to him, the bartender still looking confused and flustered, but the mystery man’s frustration melts first to recognition, which then morphs into awe.

“You speak Italian?” he asks, and Joe is pretty sure this guy is illegal. Sexy uptight Italian jock boy. And with those eyes and that smile? The combination is definitely illegal.

“Si,” he answers simply, a seductive smile creeping over his face. “I learned as a child.” He keeps the reason he was taught, his parents and the trading company they own, and the reason he stayed fluent, his own lust for Italian-speaking hunks to himself.

But the guy is just smiling back in awe, staring directly at Joe with a smile on his lips. And Joe wants him to never stop. But the young bartender shuffles awkwardly and Joe takes pity on her.

“We’ll have two daiquiris, classic please,” he says in English, turning to her and regrettably breaking eye contact with the mystery man. She looks relieved beyond belief to be given an order she can understand, and she starts flitting behind the bar, making the drinks.

“What did you order?” the mystery man asks in English and his accent is definitely illegal too. Joe is fighting the urge to just grab him and start making out with him. Fuck, he’s hot.

“Daiquiris,” he answers, fighting through an unexpected lump in his throat as he switches back to Italian. “Rum cocktail. Perfect for hot weather and sandy beaches.”

A sexually charged silence descends between the two of them, though that could be emanating from Joe and not at all reciprocated, and Joe sits, outwardly watching the bartender while sneaking glances at the mystery man in his peripheral vision.

“They have no daiquiris in Italy?” Joe asks teasingly in Italian, turning to look at the mystery man again. He ducks his head, a blush coming over his cheeks and his jaw clenching. God, he wants to lick his jaw so bad.

“I…don't really drink,” he answers haltingly in Italian. Interesting. With his devastating looks, he could definitely be a party-hopping heart breaker, especially in Italy. Must be a story behind that one. But Joe isn’t going to pry. He hums noncommittally instead. The young bartender serves them two beautifully cool daiquiris, nice yellow color with a twist of lime on the rim of the frosty glass. Joe tells her his room number to open a tab and turns back to the mystery man, his glass raised.

“Saluti,” he purrs, keeping his eyes locked seductively on the mystery man’s reaction. Said mystery man looks quite taken aback at first, but he raises his glass quickly and then down to take a sip, averting his eyes almost shyly. He smiles at the young bartender after his sip, saying “Delicious,” in English. She smiles once quickly and runs off. The sex-charged silence returns, though an awkwardness follows it now.

“So, business or pleasure?” he prompts in Italian after a moment. Mystery man starts at the question, turning to look at Joe with a shocked expression on his face. “Are you here for work or for fun?” he clarifies, hopefully not scandalizing him in the process.

He looks at Joe, his mouth flapping open and closed a little. It’s adorable.

“Not work,” he starts, shaking his head vehemently. “Not fun either, really.”

“Hm,” Joe intones, leaning against the bar and sipping his drink. “Mysterious.” He glances up and down the man’s body, meeting his intense blue eyes. The man is staring back at Joe, his head turned but his body still facing forward.

“So, running then?” he asks, tilting his head to the side in question. The man looks like he’s about to retort, but he softens after something occurs to him, and he smiles a little. “To or from?” Joe asks. He smirks, a little huffed laugh on his lips.

“Why not both?” he answers, his voice trying desperately to be light, but Joe can hear an undercurrent of pain and loss. Joe hums in agreement instead of commenting on it.

“What are you running to?” Joe questions, leaving the unasked question for later or never. He knows as well as anyone how much talking about what you’re running from isn’t a good start to a seductive conversation. And the way they’re both leaning towards each other, their drinks barely drunk and already forgotten, their eyes locked, all indicate that they are definitely leading into a seduction.

The man glances down and then up, considering Joe. And it definitely seems like his gaze is getting heated like he’s interested in taking this somewhere private. Joe’s heart starts thumping.

“Destiny,” the man answers simply and that takes Joe aback for a moment, that simple and incredibly poetic answer, it pins him to his seat, it makes his heart stop, it makes him swoon. This guy is definitely illegal, but no way is Joe reporting him.

He laughs a little breathlessly, trying to maintain a sense of cool even though he feels like he might slide off his chair into the man in front of him. If Joe didn’t know it would probably mess with the whole vibe he’s trying to give off, and it would result in the guy taking him in his arms and not disappearing into the mists, he’d do it too.

“Destiny brought you to Florida during spring break when you don’t even really speak the language?”

The man shrugs easily, his eyes locking with Joe’s again and Joe can feel the heat coming from him now in waves. Oh shit, he wants this man so bad.

“It was the first flight out,” he says flippantly. “Besides, I’ve got you for that now, don’t I?” And his eyes sparkle, mischief and want completely blatant. Oh, holy fucking shit, he wants Joe. This guy wants him. And now Joe is on his back leg, unsure of what to do, what to say, how to even respond to that. He wants to sink into his arms and whisper in his ear that he’s got Joe, alright. Uptight he may have seemed, but he’s taken to flirting seductively like a duck to water.

“Another drink, gentleman?” The young bartender is back and interrupts the heated moment, drawing the man’s eyes and attention away from Joe. Bereft of that intense stare, Joe quickly regains his brain function.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling both the bartender and the man next to him. “I think we’re good, thank you.” She looks between the two of them and scampers off again. The man turns his head to look back to Joe, that intense heat focused on him again and he’s scrambling again.

“I was going to head up to my room,” he starts, standing up so his leg presses against the other man’s. “If you want to join me.” He finishes on a whisper, almost in the man’s ear.

The man smiles and laughs once, surprise coloring his tone. “I don’t even know your name.”

Well, if that’s the only objection.

“It’s Joe.”

The man smiles widely and easily.

“Nicolo.” He leans in the tiniest bit and breathes in. “Nicky,” he almost whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you liked the first part!  
> I've got the whole thing written, so I'll post the next part in a few days. As you might expect, smut is coming!  
> A lot of this fic is my own headcanons translated into modern-day, so Joe's merchant background from the 1000s got translated into a modern trade company and Andy is a dancer because Charlize Theron is kind of amazing and I couldn't resist putting in a little nod to her beginnings as a ballet dancer.  
> (Also, Andy is queer. My headcanon is that Andy would hate labels and if she was asked to, would label herself queer. Doesn't super fuck with gender norms for herself or her partners, will be in relationships with anyone who makes her happy and because I'm super sex-positive, she has the same sort of attitude towards sex that her comic counterpart does ie, as much as possible with whoever is attractive and willing.)  
> Let me know what you thought, but please keep it nice! We're all friends here. <3


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is sex with Nicolo always this perfect?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Thank you for all the kudos and kind comments on the first part of this fic, they were so appreciated! And as promised, here's the smut! I hope you like it. As always, don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments, they really help more than you know.  
> Thanks, WritingMonkey :D

The journey up to Joe’s room is silent between the two of them, but every few seconds, their eyes catch, and the heat ratchets up. By the time they exit the elevator onto Joe’s floor, he feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. He wants him, oh god, does he want him. Nicolo, the sexy Italian man standing next to him, a heavy lust clear in his eyes. He could feel those eyes crawling up his neck as he leads them down the hall towards his room. It makes his heart pound irregularly and sweat prickle all over his body.

The intoxicating unknown of hooking up with someone you had just met is a familiar feeling to Joe, but he’d never been this keyed up before they’d even touched. It’s pure heat, pure lust bubbling between them and god, he never wants it to end.

He opens the door, holding it open for Nicky to follow him in, and catches those intense blue eyes as he walks into the room. He shuts the door, turning his back to the other man to give him a chance to scope out the room, to feel safe. He gets a vibe from Nicky that he hasn’t done this a lot or at all, and Joe knows how nervous he was the first few times he went back to someone else’s room. He’ll give Nicky the chance to gather his thoughts, to familiarize himself with his environment.

Joe turns around from the door after a moment, expecting Nicky to have walked further into the room, but the man is right there behind him, his eyes just as intense and hungry. Joe’s breath catches in his throat, his blood already singing. And Nicky lunges forward, grabs Joe’s face, and presses him harshly against the door with his entire body.

“Fuck…” Joe exhales, his entire body suddenly surrounded by Nicky’s. A bolt of lust shivers through his body at the sensation of Nicky in contact with him everywhere. They breathe heavily for a few seconds, their exhales dancing across the other’s skin as they stare into each other’s eyes.

And then Nicky leans even further in and they’re kissing. Joe had expected it to be as intense and driven as the eye-fucking, but it starts almost chaste and hesitant. No less intense though. Nicky’s hands run into Joe’s curls as he pulls them tighter together and a little whine breaks out of Joe’s throat at the sensation. He runs his hands up Nicky’s torso, pulling at the tucked-in black fabric. He wants to touch Nicky’s skin; he wants to touch everything.

The first contact Joe has with the heated olive skin underneath Nicky’s clothing almost makes his knees give out. It’s hot and smooth and nearly hairless and god, Joe just wants to kiss and lick Nicky all over. A little offended moan sounds from his throat as Nicky breaks this kiss, but the man’s mouth latches on to Joe’s neck and starting kissing and mouthing at his pulse point.

“Nicky…” Joe whines, tilting his head back to give the other man better access as he pulls him tighter into him. Nicky hums, pulling Joe’s shirt aside a little to kiss more of his neck and shoulder, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

Joe pulls at the buttons of his own shirt, trying to undo them without disrupting Nicky from where he’s situated pressing him oh so perfectly into the door. But instead, the man leans back enough to notice what Joe is fumbling with and makes a small “oh,” before standing up fully, depriving Joe of the perfect pressure of his body and all that goddamned heat, and Joe is about to protest and pull him back in when he starts undoing his shirt buttons in tandem with Joe. Well, that’s definitely a worthy cause.

They each shed their shirts and the sight of Nicky’s bare chest distracts Joe for far too long, but eventually, he regains his mind enough to reach out a tentative hand to the other man’s pec. He’d been right when he first saw him at the pool, Nicky definitely works out. He’s trim and muscled, but not buff. He doesn’t have a six-pack or anything, but it’s clear he takes care of his body. Fuck, Joe wants to kiss him again.

He groans pathetically, pulling Nicky back into him against the door and back into a kiss, heated and messy this time. Joe moans at the feel of Nicky’s bare chest against his own, the thrill of their nipples rubbing against each other, the pure heat coming off the other man in waves. God, it’s so good, he wants this feeling to last forever.

Slotting their hips together to get some kind of friction on his rapidly growing erection, he can feel the line of Nicky’s cock rubbing against his. Fuck, he feels big. Joe moans brokenly, breaking their kiss to pull Nicky’s head into his shoulder again.

“You want…” he breathes out harshly, trying to form his errant brain waves into something resembling coherent thought, but Nicky is such a fucking distraction. He’s kissing hungrily at Joe’s neck, his right hand running through his hair, the other curled around Joe’s back, pulling them together even tighter as he grinds their pelvises together. And he’s making these hungry noises from his chest that make Joe melt and his knees collapse slightly. He moans, gripping the back of Nicky’s hair harshly, tugging on it.

“Nicky…” he whines, pleading, he’s not sure for exactly what. Nicky hums questioningly, leaning his torso back just enough to look directly in Joe’s eyes. “Would you…would you want to fuck me, Nicolo?” Joe asks breathlessly, his heart in his throat, his body singing and throbbing, and his mind chanting ‘say yes, say yes, say yes,’ over and over and over again.

Nicky doesn’t say anything, instead, he exhales like his breath has been stolen from his lungs, and with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, he nods like he never expected to be asked. Like Joe has just given him the world. Joe pushes off the door, snagging Nicky’s hand as he goes and pulls him further into the room. He swings around in front of the single bed, pulling Nicky with him as he falls back onto the plush bedding, groaning happily at the comfortable weight of the Italian man on top of him.

They kiss heatedly, hands running across exposed skin, gasping for breath in between kisses. And Joe can’t help but revel in how good it feels. Like fucking heaven. He wants more; he wants it all.

He grasps at Nicky’s ass with one of his hands, kneading at the muscle through the layers of clothing. Why did man invent such a useless adornment as clothing? He’d much rather have Nicky be naked. Joe moans as Nicky sucks at his neck enthusiastically, one of his hands sinking into Joe’s hair, the other maintaining balance against the bed above Joe’s head. And Joe cannot wait any longer.

Pushing back against Nicky’s chest is the last thing he wants to do but needs must. The concerned expression on Nicky’s face as he sits back on his heels above Joe, he ignores in favor of undoing those black pants and getting his hands on the other’s cock. Nicky catches on pretty quickly and his hands start fumbling at Joe’s fastenings too.

They separate even further to shuck pants and socks, Nicky laying down next to Joe as he flails slightly to get rid of his pants, frustratingly leaving his boxers on. Joe, having stripped himself completely and feeling the impatience crawling under his skin, he launches himself up to straddle Nicky’s hips. In this position, their erections grind so perfectly together, and Joe gasps, sinking his fingers into Nicky’s hair.

Joe sits back, surveying the image Nicky creates against the dull yellow bedding and relishing in the feeling of having Nicky’s cock nestled into the crack of his ass. Even if there’s still a layer of fabric keeping Joe from really feeling it against his hole, it still makes his breath stutter and his heart thud. Fuck, he wants to kiss every inch of this man.

He starts with his nipples and then trails his way down his stomach until he’s even with the black boxers containing the thick shaft of Nicky’s cock. Joe glances up through his lashes at Nicky, flashing his bedroom eyes indiscriminately. Nicky has leaned up on his elbows, his face full of awe, his eyes still wide and his mouth gaping a little. He makes such an attractive picture like that, his blue eyes flashing, his olive skin already pebbled with sweat.

So, Joe peels down the boxers to reveal the treasure underneath and dear god is Nicky’s cock a fucking treasure. It’s not especially long but it’s thick and such a perfect shape, Joe swears someone just made a wet dream of his sentient. Sexy Italian guy with a perfect dick and intense as fuck blue eyes? Sign him up.

“You know, you could probably do porn if you wanted,” he quips and then leans down to take Nicky into his mouth without waiting for a reply.

His cock is hot and thick against his tongue and the unashamed moan that sounds above his head from Nicky shoots through his entire body like an electrical pulse and Joe has to remind himself to stay focused and not touch his own cock. He’d come way to fast, and Joe wants this to last forever. Or at least until he can sink onto Nicky’s cock.

He bobs up and down, letting the head hit the back of his throat lightly as Nicky moans and moans and moans above him. He thanks his lucky stars that he trained his gag reflex out years ago because he doesn’t think he could handle having to release Nicky from his mouth right now. Joe’s own cock twitches up to hit his belly lightly, a dribble of precum at the head. God, he’s so turned on right now he could burst at the seams.

But more important than that is getting himself ready to take Nicky. He remembers the lube and condom in one of his bags he knows is just behind his back, but he’ll have to stop sucking Nicky’s perfect cock and go without the beautiful moans emanating from his lips. Needs must.

Joe takes Nicky all the way down, his nose hitting the curled hair at the base of the other man’s cock as the head slips into his throat. Nicky convulses and shouts as Joe swallows around him, his fingers digging almost painfully into Joe’s hair. He pulls back, letting the cock fall onto Nicky’s quivering stomach and after taking in the sight of him laid out, gasping for breath, he turns to his bag and digs around till he finds the lube and the condom. He tosses the condom onto the bed within easy reach for later.

Nicky looks up, still gasping, and sees the condom. He reaches for it, but Joe stops him.

“Woah hold on there, stud,” he teases seductively, pushing the other man to lay back on the bed again. “Not quite yet.” And he takes Nicky into his mouth again, but with less of the intense need of before. Joe has quite the cock to prepare himself for.

He sucks almost sweetly, no suction, and little speed as he lubes up a few fingers before reaching back to play at his ass. Nicky moans lightly above him, the passionate exhalations giving way to pretty sighs instead. And Joe fucking loves it. He could come from this alone, he knows he could. He’s sure he’s been with other people before where it was this intense, this focused and yet so fucking perfect, but he can’t think with Nicky’s cock in his mouth and him moaning out above his head. He’s so impatient he wishes for a moment Nicky wasn’t quite so thick. But that’s insane. How could Nicky’s cock be so fucking perfect if it weren’t exactly how it is?

But being impatient, he pushes himself to three fingers before he really should, spreading them inside himself and stuffing them in further to chase away that twinge of pain from the stretch. He starts making little moaning noises in the back of his throat, he can hear himself and Nicky must hear them too because he sits up to look and a punched-out moan emanates through the room. God, Joe wants him, he wants him so bad.

“Joe…” Nicky says sweetly above his head, almost pleadingly and Joe just gives up. He stands up far too fast and has to blink a few dark spots from his eyes before he can focus again on Nicky, sitting there on the bed, his perfect fucking cock pulsing against his stomach and his eyes searching Joe’s face.

He leans in and kisses the Italian man slowly and with an inexorable heat behind it, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his hips again and god, it makes Joe feel complete in a way he really doesn’t have the brainpower to figure out right now. Instead, he shunts it to the back of his brain as he grinds their cocks together against Nicky’s stomach as they kiss. Grabbing the condom and opening it, he rolls it down Nicky’s shaft and slathers the latex with lube before putting a little more on his ass as well.

Joe shifts up and positions himself over the blunt head of Nicky’s perfect fucking cock, bringing his gaze up to Nicky’s as he starts his descent. Nicky is looking a bit lost, his arms propping him up as he searches Joe’s face. He’s not sure what for, he certainly doesn’t look like he wants to stop.

“You okay, handsome?” Joe asks, sinking his fingers into Nicky’s hair. And Nicky looks surprised and starts nodding emphatically. Joe smiles, a laugh dancing in his eyes. “Well, alright then.”

And he sinks down. Nicky gasps as the head slips in, grabbing Joe’s hips harshly, swearing suddenly in Italian.

“Too much?” Joe asks, but Nicky shakes his head.

“No,” he mutters. “It’s so…good.” Joe preens a little at that. He’d guessed that Nicky hasn’t had many sexual experiences, but it still feels good to get that reaction before you’re all the way in.

He keeps sinking down, taking breaks every few inches to breathe through the excruciatingly intense pleasure and pain dancing across his body. Nicky collapses against the bed, his fingers digging into Joe’s hips as he moans and swears and pleads, but he doesn’t pull Joe down or thrust up, he just lies back and lets Joe steer. Maybe he has been with a few guys here and there, Joe thinks, he’s a good lover.

Fully seated, the two of them gasp against each other through the clenching of Joe’s ass around Nicky’s thick cock, Joe’s eyes shut in concentration and pure pleasure as Nicky just stares in wonder. Joe opens his eyes to kiss at Nicky’s chest, moaning lightly in the back of his throat. He can feel Nicky’s heart beating in his ass.

“Fuck…” he whines and moans through rolling his hips up. Nicky grunts underneath him, his arms coming around Joe’s frame, one up behind his neck to curl into his hair and one down to palm at his ass. And without a word, they both start moving, Joe grinding down and Nicky thrusting up and god, it’s so goddamn perfect, Joe thinks he might come already.

Nicky’s cock keeps hitting Joe’s prostate fucking dead-on every time and the friction of Nicky’s stomach against his own cock is making him gasp. And Nicky is making these noises, his head tipped back and these deep moans coming from his mouth like he’s been given water after dying of thirst. Like he’s fucking experiencing the divine.

“Nicolo,” Joe pants wantonly, wanting to see those blue eyes. He’s rewarded by Nicky looking up at him, his face open and full of wonder and hunger and his eyes sparkling. He’s looking at Joe like he’s everything he’s ever wanted. Like he’s heaven incarnate.

And then Nicky reaches a hand down starts jacking Joe off with the rhythm of their thrusts and Joe is not going to last long at all.

“Nicolo,” he pants again, desperate this time. “Want you to come, hm baby?” using the Arabic term of endearment, which he knows Nicky doesn’t understand, but the idea comes across. Nicky is frantically nodding his head, his thrusts speeding up and his moans deepening.

“Joe…” he whines out, the hand on Joe’s cock tightening and speeding up to match the thrust of his hips. Joe grunts out in reply, leaning back against Nicky’s hips, getting his cock even deeper in. “Si, si, I’m close, fuck…” Nicky gasps, his hands holding Joe’s hips tightly as he fucks desperately up.

And they come together, twin moans of pleasure echoing across the room as Nicky twitches and Joe falls forward onto Nicky’s chest, both of them gasping for breath.

It’s so goddamned perfect. Definitely one of Joe’s top fucks ever. Probably the best, in actuality. Because of the times he’s had sex, he cannot think of a single time he and his partner were so in sync, seemed to know exactly how to move together and when Joe liked his hair pulled or when to slow things down. Nicky was perfect. This whole moment was perfect.

But, like every moment, it doesn’t last forever. The cooling sweat and come on their bodies starts to make Joe’s skin crawl a little bit, so he sits up and pulls off of Nicky, the two of them groaning in unison as Nicky’s cock slips free and slaps obscenely against his stomach. Joe pulls the condom off and after groaning onto his feet, he pads to the bathroom, feeling every inch of that perfect thick cock as he goes.

He brings back a warm washcloth to wipe them down and he and Nicky’s eyes dance together as he wipes his spend from Nicky’s chest. Before he can open his mouth to suggest a repeat, or a drink later tonight, or a full-on date, Nicky pulls him in for a delightfully chaste and yet incredibly intimate kiss.

The Italian man pulls him back into the bed, drawing the covers down and over them, kissing Joe’s forehead and his eyelids, his cheeks as he does so. Joe has never felt so cared for. They stare silently into each other eyes for much longer than is normal, but Joe will never want to look into this man’s blue, blue eyes. And isn’t that an alarming thought right after a hookup. But Joe breathes through the panic attack and pushes it to the back of his mind.

Nicky leans in to kiss Joe again and then turns around in the bed, pulling Joe up against his back and snuggling into the bed. Ah. He’s the little spoon. Joe cuddles up against Nicky’s back, relishing in the warm skin and the smell of this man. He wouldn’t normally sleep with hook-ups right after they meet, but it’s Nicky. Nicky’s safe.

And Joe falls deeply asleep, his nose buried in Nicky’s hair, and his arm curled around his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I hope you liked it!  
> Smut is sometimes something I struggle writing, being ace and all, but I really enjoyed writing this one. Nicky and Joe just have such a passion and magnetism as characters that make them super interesting to write.  
> I'm considering once this fic is published continuing writing in this universe, maybe some one-shots, maybe a multi-chapter, so let me know if you'd like me to do that! Prompts or ideas would be very useful and appreciated.  
> Also, for anyone who might be wondering what language they're speaking during the chapter, I decided not to specify too much for this fic, as they both speak Italian, but I don't and I didn't want to deal with the mini headache that is Google Translate. So, it's the reader's choice whether they're speaking English or Italian throughout. :)  
> Let me know what you think! <3


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here comes Booker to be a cock-block. But only mildly and not intentionally. And the draw Joe feels towards Nicky is still there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!  
> Here's the final part to wrap it up. Thanks to all the kudos and the wonderfully kind comments on the first two parts, it really makes me feel all the things, to know that people liked it. Please keep it up, it helps the creative monster so much.  
> Hope you like it!  
> Thanks, WritingMonkey :D

“Joe.”

Joe snuffles, burrowing deeper into the comfort and warmth of the bed, ignoring the voice calling his name.

“Joe, mon amour. Reveillez-vous.”

He whines, pushing his face further into the pillow under his head. And then, his eyes snap open at the realization. French, not Italian. He looks up, his face already dreading what he knows he will see.

Booker, a shit-eating grin on his face, is sitting on the bed, a piece of black clothing dangling from his fingertips. Joe recognizes it upon closer inspection as Nicky’s boxers. He lunges forward, attempting to get them from Booker, but the bastard simply stands up, a laugh bubbling off his lips.

“You certainly didn’t waste time, love,” Booker teases as he drops the boxers on the edge of the bed and saunters across the room.

Joe’s mind flies to Nicky. He’s nowhere to be seen. Gone from the bed and Joe’s arms, and for a moment, a panic laces through Joe that Nicky snuck out without giving Joe a chance to ask him for his number or anything, but he can hear the shower running. Ah, okay. Joe can work with that. As long as Booker isn’t here when Nicky comes back out.

“Booker,” Joe grits out, all annoyance. “You said you were you going to be late. What are you doing here?”

The Frenchman sits at the rolling chair in front of the desk, swiveling around to smirk at Joe. “It is later, darling.” Joe catches a glimpse of the clock and realizes he and Nicky probably only slept for about an hour. He rolls his eyes. He’d expected Booker tomorrow morning maybe, but definitely not very nearly on time.

“So, you chose today to be on time?” he huffs, sitting up in the bed and leaning back against the headboard, crossing his arms in a very childlike way. Booker laughs with his whole body, tilting his head back in the chair. Joe can probably count on one hand how many times Booker has actually met them somewhere at the decided upon time. And he somehow did it today, of all days. The destiny goblins have turned on Joe for some reason.

He needs to get Booker out of here before Nicky gets out of the shower. Joe is absolutely positive it will make Nicky uncomfortable to be forced to meet someone like this and its Booker. He has a talent for making people uncomfortable with his easy affection for his friends. And Joe is also positive he shouldn’t explain their relationship to Nicky like this, with Booker here. He’s pretty sure the Italian man had been with people before, but he still has an overwhelming feeling of traditional to him, and trying to explain their friends-with-benefits arrangement might be too much for him right now.

“Booker,” Joe starts, “Can you…leave for a bit? Just an hour or so? I’ll text you when you can come back.” He raises his tone up like a question, pleading with his friend. Booker smiles easily, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s wrong Joe? You don’t want me to meet your new beau?” he teases. “What’s the matter, is he ugly?” Booker asks patronizingly as he stands up and walks over to the bed, putting his hand on Joe’s shoulder like he’s consoling him. Joe shrugs him off angrily. Nicky ugly? Laughable.

“No, he’s not ugly,” he retorts, but he pauses and looks down at the bed to avoid Booker’s face. “He’s not…out. I don’t think,” he offers, the best guess Joe has to explain Nicky.

Booker makes a sympathetic sound in his throat and sits down next to Joe, who looks up. The Frenchman has a smile on his face, half sad, half pitying as cradles Joe’s cheek warmly, saying “Oh, sweetheart.” Joe knows it’s not patronizing; it doesn’t feel like it from Booker. More like joining in the unfortunate lot Joe’s been dealt having slept with someone who isn’t out. Booker has far more experience in that than Joe does, he knows exactly how it feels.

The bathroom door opens suddenly and the two friends’ eyes snap over to see Nicky standing in the doorway, a towel around his hips, and his glorious body pebbled with drops water. Joe’s mouth goes dry and his brain starts melting, longing to trace his tongue up Nicky’s body and kiss him senseless.

But Booker is still here.

“Uh…” Joe says elegantly, glancing over at Booker and seeing the open appreciation in his face for the handsome picture Nicky makes. He almost wants to rub it in to make him take back the ugly comment the Frenchman made earlier, but first, he has to explain this to Nicky.

“Nicky, this is Booker. Booker, this is Nicky.” Okay, introductions out of the way. Now what? ‘Nicky, Booker’s my friend-with-benefits. We have sex sometimes, but we aren’t together.’ ‘We share hotel rooms to save money and occasionally we have sex.’ None of what his mind comes up with sounds good.

“Um…” he stalls for time as his brain flounders, trying to discern what the blank look on Nicky’s face means.

“I…” Nicky interrupts Joe’s brain disintegrating. “I have to go.” He starts pulling his clothes on and Joe starts panicking a little.

“Go?” he asks frantically, scrambling a little at the bed sheets to sit bolt upright.

Nicky finds his pants and starts to pull them on, looking back at Joe, his expression still unreadable.

“Yeah, I have plans,” he says haltingly in English. Joe’s stomach drops. That sounds like a date, like Nicky’s taken. “Tourist stuff,” he adds.

Oh. Well, at least that’s not plans to meet with a girlfriend. Joe relaxes slightly.

“Okay,” he says slowly as Nicky finds his shirt and his shoes by the door. “I’ll see you then?” the potential for another round, a chance to explain Booker, a chance to get his number and a date, and everything bounces around in Joe’s mind.

Nicky doesn’t answer for a minute as he pulls on his shoes, long enough for Joe to start spiraling again. He doesn’t want to see you again, he doesn’t like you, he has a partner, he’s leaving the country tonight, his brain choruses. But Nicky straightens up, his shoes on but messily tied, his shirt left unbuttoned to expose his beautiful torso and his blue eyes boring right into Joe’s soul.

“Yeah,” he says softly, almost a whisper. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” Joe smiles, his heart thumping and his eyes refusing to leave Nicky’s beautiful face. Nicky glances over at Booker, a muscle in his jaw jumps and then he turns and leaves the room, the door swinging shut behind him.

An awkward silence descends over the room, Joe still tingling from Nicky’s last words when Booker whistles lowly to his right.

“Well, you were right, mon amour,” Booker says. Joe looks over questioningly. “Not ugly. Not out.” Joe rolls his eyes and groans, slapping Booker across the shoulder in retaliation, for which statement he’s not sure. He lays back on the pillows, throwing his arm up over his eyes.

“You goddamned bastard,” he bites out to Booker, who laughs good-naturedly and gets up from the bed.

“Oh, don’t be so mean. I’ll buy you a drink tonight to pay you back, hm?”

Joe groans again. “Three,” he insists, and Booker snorts a laugh in answer.

-

They meet up with Andy in the lobby of the hotel a few hours later. Booker and Andy greet each other in their usual way, wide happy smiles and no hugs. She leans against the counter behind her, the picture of unaffected confidence, wearing a pair of light gray shorts and a matching suit jacket over a black t-shirt, her sunglasses shielding her eyes.

“How did it go with that guy?” she asks Joe. He groans and Booker starts laughing, far too loudly to be polite. Andy looks between the two of them, one eyebrow arched behind her sunglasses.

“It was going great,” he bites out, his eyes cast downward. “Until Booker decided to be on time for once in his life.” He finishes with a glare in Booker’s direction as the other man holds up his hands in surrender, a laugh still bubbling lightly from his lips.

“I said I was sorry, love,” Booker replies, throwing his arm over Joe’s shoulder as Joe grimaces. But he sighs and brings his arm up around Booker’s waist. As much as he might enjoy holding a grudge over Booker all night, there’s nothing to do about it now and he’d much prefer to have an enjoyable night with his friends without expending the energy of shunning him.

Booker smiles mischievously. “That’s the spirit, Yusuf!” he exclaims, using Joe’s given Muslim name instead of his nickname. “We’re in Florida for spring break!” Gesturing all around them in a wide-sweeping movement, he continues into Joe’s ear. “There are beautiful people everywhere darling, you’ll find someone else.”

Joe hums and doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to say that the immediate response that comes to mind is, ‘Not like Nicky.’ Because Joe isn’t sure he’s experienced anything like he had with Nicky. They had been like wildfire, like a natural disaster, inevitable and awe-inspiring. It had been like they knew each other already, like they had been together a hundred times before, like they just fit together like puzzle pieces, as cliché as it is.

But Joe is not thinking that, most definitely not. He is not letting his mind dwell on how incredibly hot their sex had been. How intense and Earth-shakingly intimate it had been. How amazingly good Nicky had looked beneath him, how he had sounded. God, how the man had moaned. Joe had always loved the sounds people made when they were with him, it always shot through his body like lightning, igniting his lust that much faster. But Nicky…he had been something else. Something insatiable and perfect. God, he had been so perfect.

He didn’t even know him though. Nicky had been so tight-lipped when they met, Joe didn’t even know his full name. Or if he was even Italian. If he had a partner. Joe decides he won’t think about him anymore tonight. He’d enjoy the night Andy had organized for them from her long list of friends and exes and he wouldn’t think about Nicolo the sexy Italian anymore.

-

Joe is thinking about Nicolo.

Admittedly, he’d been doing pretty well for about an hour at dinner. Andy had gotten them a table at one of the local hot-spots and the easy conversation, catching up on work and families between the three of them had distracted him enough. But then they’d gone to a bar a block down the street and with how packed it was, he could barely hear anything but his own thoughts.

They’d nabbed a table towards the front and are drinking steadily in between shouting at each other over the din. The atmosphere is thick and hot, the tension in the air easily lending itself to hookups and both Andy and Booker are taking the opportunity to scope out the crowd, eyes lingering and inviting, but all Joe can think about is Nicky.

He wonders if this is his scene. Nicky seems like the stay in, watch movies on the couch and make homemade meals kind of person. Would he go clubbing with him if Joe wanted? His mind conjures up an image of Nicky dancing in a club, shirtless and sweaty, living in the music. God, he wants to find him again and take him dancing.

Booker downs another shot of tequila and leans in against Joe, his arm casually slung over his shoulders and his lips brushing against Joe’s neck. Any other night, it wouldn’t phase Joe at all. Booker is an affectionate man; he is with anyone he’s comfortable with. He hugs easily, he kisses people full on the mouth when he knows they won’t mind, he falls into bed with more people than Joe, though definitely not more than Andy. As far as Joe can tell, he’s like this with all his friends except Andy, who would probably knock him out if he tried anything more than an affectionate side-hug.

And Joe knows it isn’t necessarily sexual either. It can spin that way easily, Booker has the libido of a teenager and if Joe just turns his head and catches Booker’s lips into a deeper kiss, he knows well how effortlessly they can fall into bed together. But he knows it doesn’t have to be like that for the Frenchman. The affection comes more from a need for a physical reminder of love, of acceptance and trust than anything else. Growing up in numerous nightmare foster homes and orphanages across France doesn’t let him trust people easily, but once he does, he likes to constantly remind himself and them of this trust and love.

But tonight, it feels wrong. Like beetles crawling underneath his skin. Like he’s being boxed in. Like the only touch he wants is–

Joe shrugs Booker off and the man can immediately tell something is wrong.

“What is it, love?” he asks loudly, leaning back in his chair and relaxing his arm to be across the back of Joe’s chair instead of his shoulders. Joe doesn’t answer, grimacing, and ignoring the question. He doesn’t want to admit to it out loud. That he’s been thinking about Nicky since dinner, that he wants to find him again. Wants to kiss him again. Wants more than anything to get to know his handsome mystery man.

But Booker doesn’t need the words, he can read it in Joe’s face.

“You’re thinking about that guy, aren’t you, dear?” he asks, an incredibly soft smile spreading over his lips. Joe groans a little, his head falling forward in agreement. No use denying it now.

“I just…” he trails off, not sure exactly how to put into words what he wants. “He isn’t like anybody else I’ve been with, Booker,” giving him a bit of a sheepish glance, not wanting to offend his friend. Booker shakes his head, dismissing it without thought. He had never been jealous of Joe, just as Joe could never be jealous of Booker. It isn’t what their relationship is.

“Not just the sex, though either,” he continues loudly into Booker’s ear. “It was great, sure, but there’s something so sad and yet so hopeful about him.” He sighs, slumping against his chair. “I just want to see him again. Talk to him.”

“Well, now might be your chance,” Joe hears Andy shout and he’s momentarily surprised she could hear their conversation. He can barely hear her when she’s screaming.

But he looks up to her eyes and follows the nod she gives to the bar behind him and there’s Nicky. He has the same clothes on from earlier today, all business, but his sleeves are rolled up and his first two buttons are undone, and Joe can see the sweat pebbled across his forehead and his chest. Would it be rude to the other patrons at the bar to start licking Nicky in public? God, he looks glorious, like a Renaissance painting in the flesh.

And then he notices his face. Besides the requisite beauty, he looks angry. Or, maybe not angry, but certainly not happy. His eyes are furrowed and darting back and forth between Booker and Joe, his jaw tense. And Joe can guess what’s going on in his head.

“Nicky…” he starts, though he has no clue how he expects him to hear from several feet away in a crowded bar. He goes to stand, but Nicky pins him with a look of pure betrayal, all hurt and pain, and so much sadness before he turns on his heel and practically runs out of the bar and into the street.

Without a thought, Joe follows him out, elbowing past rowdy drunk college kids to get through to the blessed cool and relative quiet of the street. He glances left and then right, seeing Nicky’s retreating back a few yards down the street, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his back hunched like he’s in the middle of a storm. He looks so utterly defeated and there is no way Joe can allow that to continue.

“Nicky!” he shouts. And the man turns around, confusion and bewilderment on his face. Joe jogs to him, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his mind racing. How to explain everything that went wrong? He’s gasping harshly as he meets the other man across the dark street and next to the edge of the deserted beach despite the ridiculously short distance he had to travel.

“Nicky…” he says again, relishing the way the man’s name feels on his tongue, wants to say it a lot more in the future. “I…uh…” He looks back to the bar, trying to catch his breath and calm his heartbeat and organize his mind. There seems to be no good way to broach this, so might be better to just blurt it out.

“We aren’t a couple.”

Nicky looks taken aback by this and then his brow furrows and his eyes narrow in mistrust.

“Booker and I, we aren’t together.”

Nicky is clearly not convinced. “The room?” he asks gruffly.

Joe huffs. That’s probably the easiest to explain.

“Money,” he answers easily. “I have a pretty cushy job, but I’m…saving up for art school and the subsequent unemployment that may bring.” He doesn’t usually talk about his passion very much, but it’s Nicky. Joe wants to tell him everything. “And Booker…has never been good with money,” he says ruefully, remembering the numerous times Booker has gambled away his ticket home or spent his savings impressing some girl or other.

Nicky seems to take this; his frown relaxes somewhat. But then he shakes his head, confusion still the dominant emotion on his face. Joe will have to give him more than that.

“Nicky,” he pleads, touching the other man’s arms and pulling them out of his pockets to hold his hands. “We have been together, but we aren’t together. We…have you heard of friends-with-benefits?”

Surprisingly, Nicky nods, though his confusion is still clear.

“We are– well, Booker is affectionate and intimate, but we aren’t romantic. He’s a friend.”

And Nicky is back to looking blank, his brow only slightly furrowed, but the mistrust gone from his eyes. Joe sighs. Time to lay his heart out in the open, it seems.

“I wanted to tell you,” he breathes, looking plainly back into Nicky’s eyes. “Because I want you to know…I am so available. For…whatever. And I want you. I want you…I want you to know me, Nicolo. And I want to know you.”

Joe lets the silence descend, hoping his words are plain enough to make Nicky understand and hoping his thumping heart can’t be heard by the Italian in front of him. He doesn’t think he’s been this nervous since he told his parents that he definitely wasn’t straight. He wants to let the poetry stream from his mouth, convince Nicky to go on a date with him, to kiss him again, anything, but he knows he needs to give Nicky some space to think. To take all this in and decide what he wants. Even though he knows this, it is torture watching Nicky’s unreadable face in the silence, his breathing harsh, and his body on edge.

“I’m a priest,” Nicky exclaims suddenly.

That is definitely not what Joe was expecting to come from Nicky’s mouth. Perhaps more questions, a declaration of his own intent or a firm refusal, but this…he has no idea what to do with this. Joe can feel his mouth gaping open and his eyes widening in shock. Does that mean Nicky wants to be with Joe or doesn’t? Can’t be with Joe?

“Well,” Nicky cuts into Joe’s racing thoughts. “Almost a priest. I did all the schooling, but…” He pauses, looking deep into Joe’s eyes. “I want you to know me too.”

And Joe’s mind stops and that simple phrase echoes around his head. Like before at the bar when he’d said just as simply and plainly that he was chasing his destiny. Nicky is pure poetry.

The Italian sits against the stone barrier between the street and the sandy beach, pulling Joe’s hands down to get him to sit next to him.

“I was born in a very small town in Italy,” Nicky starts, staring down at their interlocked fingers. “Small enough that we aren’t known outside the region and…it was very traditional. My father was the mayor, a very important man, but my mother…wasn’t his wife.” Joe takes it in stride, building up the picture that is this beautiful man before him.

“I didn’t really know, how everyone in the town hated us until school and…well, children repeat what their parents say. It was difficult. No one wanted to sit with me during lessons or meals and if they interacted with me at all, it was to call me ‘whoreson’ and ‘devil spawn’.”

Joe’s heart breaks, his eyes starting to burn. For anyone to have grown up with that is horrible, but for Nicky to have gone through it? It is abominable, unthinkable.

“But it was harder for my mother. I never understood how she could live with it, all the looks and the whispers and when they didn’t whisper. I asked her once why we didn’t live anywhere else and do you know what she said?” He looks up into Joe’s eyes, his face clear and sad.

“‘Our Lord did not run, and I will not either.’”

Joe rubs his fingers. “She sounds like a strong woman.” Nicky nods and looks down at their hands again.

“She was.”

Joe lets that statement hang in the air, not entirely sure what to say in response.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, sad beyond belief that Nicky lost his mother, someone he obviously loved. Nicky doesn’t respond, just nods, his eyes downcast and his jaw tight.

“I was the only one who went to her funeral to mourn her,” he continues, his voice harsh. “Nearly the whole town was there, not my father, of course, but every single person who had mocked her or made her sad was there to gloat and profess how sinners never lived good lives.” His tone has become mocking and sharp and Joe does not blame him one bit. “I couldn’t stay there after that.”

“So…you decided to become a priest?” Joe asks, a little baffled. Nicky certainly has the quiet temperament he imagines priests have, but he also has an edge to him that isn’t part of the image. And then there’s the fact that not 5 hours previously, he’s had his cock in his ass.

But Nicky just smiles and looks up into Joe’s eyes. “By then, I knew that I was…that I liked men, but I had grown up being told that everything about me was wrong and disgusting. I didn’t want to deal with that on top of being illegitimate and scorned by the town.”

“I was so angry back then, Joe. So full of it, for my father, for my home, for God even. But I knew my mother wouldn’t have wanted me to feel that, so I ran instead. I went to repent my supposed sins, to escape the town, and to learn my mother’s patience. To learn my mother’s God.”

It sounds so final the way he says it like it’s the end of the story, but it clearly isn’t.

“So, what happened to bring you to Florida during spring break?” Joe asks the tiniest bit of a laugh on his lips. Nicky looks up at Joe, a little smile tugging at his lips too.

“My father died about a week ago I think, and I got a letter at school,” he says, his tone light and easy, a stark contrast to when he spoke of his mother’s death. Joe makes a sad noise regardless, but Nicky shakes his head. “Don’t. We were never close. He wasn’t a good father.”

“The letter, I’m not sure if it was from him or his wife, maybe his other children, but it told me to come home for the funeral, had a plane ticket in it and everything. Maybe they were trying to make up for all the time we were tortured because of him, or maybe they were trying to continue it, I don’t know. There was a nice big check with the letter too, so it could even have been a bribe to save face for something else. I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”

“But when I knew he was dead, I felt free for the first time since I was a child. I didn’t want to go back there. But I didn’t want to shut myself up in a church and hide from the world anymore either. My mother would have slapped me upside the head if she’d been there. So, I went to the airport and traded the ticket in for the first available flight out of the country and trusted I would end up where I needed to be. I could, for the first time in my life, be free.”

Joe sniffs, bringing up one of their interlocked hands to dab at his eyes a little. His eyes have long graduated from burning to gathering water and a few tears have started to slip out down his cheeks.

“Joe…” Nicky says, turning towards Joe, alarm clear on his face. Joe shakes his head emphatically.

“You’re so brave, Nicky,” he says instead. “Growing up with that…I can’t imagine. And then losing your mother and giving up everything. And then just wandering off to a foreign country without even knowing the language…You are so incredibly brave, beautiful.”

Nicky smiles. “Well, I didn’t have to wander around stupidly too much, you came to rescue me before long.” The incredibly brave man sitting next to him brings their hands up to his lips and kisses Joe’s fingers, one-by-one, so sweetly Joe thinks his heart might burst. Which makes him realize…

“Wait…” he starts, leaning back a little to look at Nicky’s face. “You went from your hometown to priest school.” Nicky laughs a little at ‘priest school’ but doesn’t seem to know where this is going. “Are you…I mean, were you? I…uh…” Nicky is frowning, a little smile crawling over his lips in amusement.

“Were you a virgin?” Joe asks suddenly, feeling very lecherous for coming on as strong as he did when they met.

Nicky just laughs and shakes his head. “No. I’d been with people before, but…nothing like it was with you.”

And there’s it is again. That simple and easy statement spoken so truthfully and poetically it makes Joe’s heart pound.

“For me either,” he whispers breathlessly, and Nicky smiles widely, leaning into Joe, angling his head clearly to the side to initiate a kiss.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Joe blurts out, loath to let this chance go to waste. Nicky starts back a little in shock, but then he smiles again.

“Of course, Joe, I’d love to.”

And they kiss, long and deep but chaste as any kiss Joe’s ever had. It feels so different, even from the others kisses he’s shared with Nicky. Like deep tectonic movement in the Earth or a lava flow across a plain. Just as unavoidable and awe-inspiring, as bright and firey too. And in a way he hasn’t allowed himself to think about, it feels like coming home.

They break their kiss, letting their foreheads rest together and their fingers play against each other in between their knees.

“Do you think it was?” Joe asks in a whisper to keep the moment. He can feel Nicky frown. “Do you think it was destiny?” he clarifies, looking into Nicky’s clear blue eyes. “Us meeting like this?”

Nicky looks up, cradling Joe’s face in one of his hands, a smile pulling at his lips, his face so incredibly fond it hurts.

“Maybe,” he answers sweetly, his eyes soft and warm like nothing Joe has ever seen. “I’d like to think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end of the road! Or maybe it's just the beginning...:)  
> I've been working on a couple more works in this universe, a one-shot of Destiny from Nicky's perspective and then a longer multi-chapter continuing the story. Let me know if you want more! (Also in that vein, if people have prompts for this universe or this ship, comment them below.)  
> Thank you for reading my work. Hopefully, you liked it! Kudos and kind comments are always appreciated, so please keep them coming.  
> Until next time, WritingMonkey :D


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